


Sem'ya

by EclecticAce



Series: Shirley [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8541250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticAce/pseuds/EclecticAce
Summary: Takes place in 1976: Napoleon and Illya, on a rare chance for a holiday, take their nieces to Toronto to see the brand new CN Tower.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JordanUlysses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanUlysses/gifts).



> Ok so:  
> \- Clara(4) and Natalie(1) are Lana's daughters whom Napoleon and Illya have custody of.   
> \- Lana is Shirley's sister (the 11 year old "Space Cadet" in "1959").   
> \- The CN Tower opened in June of 1976 and was the tallest free standing structure in the world from 1975-2010 when its record was beaten by Lotte Tower in South Korea. 
> 
> Partially edited. 
> 
> I wasn't going to post this yet, but after yesterday I figured something a bit fun and different would be alright.

June 1976 – Toronto, Canada

                “If you look all the way across the water that way,” he crouched till he was almost the same height as the four-year-old, put a gentle hand to her back and pointed out the window in the direction he wanted her to look, “that’s Buffalo.”

                The girl’s entranced blue eyes turned to her uncle in shock before she looked back a couple seconds later, and then back to her uncle and then back to the window yet again before she finally spoke. Her voice brimming with absolute disbelief, “wow…”

                “Neat, huh?” Napoleon grinned and moved his finger to the left, the girl’s head followed closely. “Now follow that freeway all the way that way and it’ll take you right to where your mommy grew up.”

                Clara looked to him again, “her house?!”

                “Uh…” he paused. “No, the part of the city where she grew up.”

                 “Oh,” the girl nodded, sounding far surer about what he’d said than he knew she felt. Her eyes shifted to the window again, in the direction she’d just looked only a few seconds before she bodily turned toward Napoleon and blinked. “Do you think she’d remember it?”

                “I would think so, yes.”

                She nodded again and fell silent then relaxed against her uncle carefully and let her eyes dropped from the expanse in front of them. Napoleon kissed her forehead and brushed away a few stray pieces of hair from her face. He smiled when he felt both of her nimble little hands move to the watch on his wrist and begin to fiddle with the band. He let her play, he just made sure to hold her gently and watch.

                Clara’s bright eyes had dimmed considerably since her first question, and she hadn’t once looked up from his wrist since nodding, a telltale sign for all that knew her that meant her mind was working overtime, trying desperately to formulate her next question. She’d do it eventually, he just had to wait…and probably brace himself.  

                Her hands didn’t stop tinkering with the watch band once she finally spoke. “Do you think she’d still be alive if she didn’t leave there?”

                He’d been right.

                Napoleon hadn’t realised he’d stopped breathing until common sense kicked in and forced him to inhale. Hard enough and sharp enough his throat actually ran dry.

                “Now listen,” carefully, he moved the hand he’d wrapped around her loosely to cover her hands on his wrist. “Clara, look at me, sweetheart.” She did automatically, which left Napoleon hoping the grin he offered her showed as a grin and not the grimace he figured it was. “You know, if she hadn’t left Canada then she wouldn’t have met your daddy and if she hadn’t met your daddy then,” he paused and reaffirmed his grin to make sure it showed in his voice, “do you know what wouldn’t have happened?”

                Clara didn’t even miss a beat, her cheeks immediately split with the size of the grin that blossomed on her face. A tiny finger came up and poked his chin dimple. “No Natalie or me.”

                “Right!” This new grin on his face, Napoleon knew, mirrored hers almost completely. Both of his arms shifted and wrapped around her frame as he nestled his head against her neck, turned his face quickly and kissed her ear before finally continuing. “And where would that leave Uncle Illya and myself? We’d be without both our best girls.”  

                The girl’s sigh rattled her whole-body seconds before she turned to face him and threw her bony arms around his neck. She relaxed her hold after a bit, but didn’t let go. Clara returned the kiss, this one to his cheek, and spoke. “I’m sorry, Uncle Napoleon,” her blue eyes flashed once. “I just miss her.”

                It took every muscle in his body to maintain the grin and keep his stance strong. “I know you do, sweetheart.” Napoleon managed a wink before he got in a quick kiss to her nose. “I do too.”

                The pair enjoyed the silence that fell over them after his admission for almost thirty full seconds before a startled laugh from their immediate left drew their shared attention that way.

                Beside them was a blond man of Russian extraction, a trained special agent, polymath, and honest-to-goodness Quantum physicist, currently fumbling like mad to get a better hold on his one year old charge. Said charge, a fiery haired troublemaker, was currently almost horizontal in his arms, with both hands and her face pressed against the window, without a care in the world.

                Napoleon chuckled as Illya laughed again.

                “Natalie!” The Russian admonished softly before readjusting one arm around the baby’s waist and leaned away, heavily on to his heels, and as far as he dared, in order to get the toddler’s face off the glass of the closed-in observation deck. “away now. Dirty.”

                An exasperated sigh that sounded much older than her handful of years fell from Clara’s lips as she looked upon the scene before her and shook her head. The look on her face once she looked back to Napoleon absolutely screamed, “I’m not amused.”

                The result being that Napoleon ended up having to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the girl and only nod as he straightened up.

                He took her hand in his and headed in the direction of the other half of their crew. Napoleon winked down at Clara again as soon as they got close enough to Illya and Natalie. “I think your sister’s trying to tell us she’s hungry.”

                The girl laughed just as his partner finally managed to get both arms around Natalie and hold her against him just long enough for him to step completely away from the window and turn to the pair beside him. The perturbed huff of the toddler that followed only served to broaden the Russian’s smile. But that smile quickly lessened half a second later when Natalie kicked backwards with both feet and managed to land a pretty good blow to his inner thigh.

                Napoleon shared a quick look with his friend to make sure he was alright, and when the Russian blinked he moved to lift the forgotten black bag that held all Natalie’s extras, a bag both men had agreed was not ever going to be called something as silly as a baby bag, and threw it over his shoulder.

                Illya moved Natalie to his hip before she could kick him again, then readjusted the CN Tower baseball cap on her head and looked to Napoleon with a quirked smile. “She is definitely one for proving her relation to you today, my friend.” As if cementing his point further, Natalie chose that moment to let loose an ear-piercing screech half a second before she threw her body forward. It was only Illya’s quick reflexes that saved the toddler from hitting the floor.

                “Awe-haw, Natalie-” he reached across the space between them and flattened the flyaway wisps of hair that’d escaped from underneath her cap. “What’s wrong with our girl, huh?”

                “Uncle Napoleon?”

                He looked down at Clara to see that she was looking back up at him.

                “I’m a girl too, you know?”

                Illya laugh was easy as he too looked to the older girl, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “It’s a fact that your uncle is all too aware of, my dear, I promise you that.”    

                And it was then that Napoleon decided that, if looks could have killed, his partner’s death would have been slow and painful. He stayed silent however and turned back to the girl.

                Illya snickered at the look he received but he too stayed silent. If only for the benefit of his two charges and his friend’s sanity.

                Clara beamed at her Uncle ‘E and then looked back up at Napoleon and pointed to an advertisement on the wall. “They have a spaghetti factory here; can we go see the spaghetti being made?”

                “Of course we can, Miss Glasgow. Right away!” a gentle shake of their joined hands followed and then a wistful look by him, back out at the endless horizons around them. The quartet headed toward the elevators and easily managed to get on the next ride down, which was alright with Napoleon. Clara had yet to master queuing…and with the number of people around, well, it was just better for everyone this way.

                Once on the elevator, he shook the hand he still held and spoke. “After dinner we’ll go back to the hotel and Uncle Illya and you can go swimming, alright?”

                “What about Natalie?”

                “Uh,” he paused for a few seconds to make it look like he had to think about his reply, and then spoke. “She and I will stay back in the room and read, I think. Not up for swimming today.”

                “Did you bring her Caterpillar book?”

                “Of course.” Napoleon nodded sharply, looked up and forward in feigned indignation, and adjusted his collar. When he looked back down at the girl he smiled when he noticed she was smirking at him. “And we’ve your Green Eggs and Ham for bedtime…your uncle’s favourite as well, may I add?"

                Blue met brighter blue in a flash. Illya offered the girl a gentle, easy smile and then nodded, almost proudly. “It was a book I read several times a week when I was learning English.”

                The girl’s smile was almost shy when she bowed her head, pressed her face against Napoleon’s wrist and mumbled, “cool.”

                -

                Napoleon locked eyes with the waitress as soon as she rounded the wall and then looked back to Clara and pushed her crayons off to the side. Clara immediately looked to him in shock and grabbed for the crayons as quickly as she could and then shook her head and dropped them again, right where they had been, in pure defiance.

                He pointed at the woman approaching from behind her, “your food’s coming. The girl can’t put it down if your crayons are in the way.”

                Clara had just enough time to turn her head in order to check and see if her uncle was telling the truth when the largest plate of spaghetti Napoleon had ever seen in his life was pushed on to the table right in front of the four year old.

                Both Illya and him looked to the waitress in unison and then back to the spaghetti, and then back to the waitress. Illya only shook his head and immediately started doling out spaghetti on to the two empty plate in front of him and Napoleon. Clara had yet to react. In fact, she hadn’t even blinked.

                “I brought along the largest takeaway container we had,” the container she handed to Illya, even as she continued speaking to Napoleon. “That should keep her going for about a week if you forget to feed her later-on.” The waitress winked playfully at Napoleon and then turned her attention Natalie and ran a gentle hand over the baby’s head before she turned to the table behind her to lift the rest of their order, 90% of which Napoleon knew wouldn’t be touched. Not if everything was that size.

                Her next entrée was obviously for Natalie, right down to the heaping pile pink dyed spaghetti on it, but was placed in front of Illya with a quick explanation of, “dad’ll want to cut it up for Little Miss before she gets her paws into it.” She then produced a miniature plastic wrapped pink fork and spoon set from her apron and presented it to Napoleon with another wink.

                “Well,” he chuckled as he took the set in his hand, “thank you…uh,” he finally spied her nametag, “Wendy.”

                “No problem at all, sweetheart,” Wendy turned and lifted the next entrée to the table before she continued. This one was for Illya. A chicken Caesar Salad that easily, and somehow, rivalled the size of Clara’s meal. Suddenly Napoleon was worried that they’d have no room on the table for his meal. “if you want, I can pop back and grab another set for the artist here.” Clara looked to Wendy with a look that told her what her answer would be if asked. Wendy laughed and then nodded once, “will do. Just let me get daddy’s plate on here and I’ll get your set, alright?”

                Napoleon watched Wendy disappear around the corner again before Clara’s voice brought his attention back to the table. Clara was looking at him with a rather intent look in her eyes when he looked back at the table finally. As soon as his attention as back on her, Clara took the end of a piece of spaghetti in her mouth and took in the rest of it in one long, loud slurp.

                “Hey!” everyone turned their attention to Natalie at the sound of the girl’s voice. The baby’s attention, however, was focused solely on the plate of spaghetti her sister had in front of her. “Me!”

                “Here, Natalie,” Illya set the red plastic plate, which had been divested of most of the spaghetti before being cut up into tiny bits, on the tray of her highchair as Napoleon set the fork and spoon down beside it. The Russian then took up the spoon in his hand and gently wrapped Natalie’s fingers around it and dug into the spaghetti with it. “Look, Illya’s got yours here.” He pulled the spoon out, half filled and put it to her lips. “Here, krasivaya, this is for you.” Natalie clamped her tiny mouth shut and continued to stare at the plate in front of Clara.

                Napoleon, understanding what was going on inside the baby’s head, looked to Clara, “she wants to do what you just did with your spaghetti.”

                “How? Hers is all cut up.”

                “Give her a piece of yours, let her try.”

                A beat and then, “but she has her own.”

                “Milaya,” Illya sighed, keeping his eye on Natalie as he spoke, “please?”

                Another half second and then an identical sigh from a much smaller body, “fine.” She lifted a piece right from the top of her meal and handed it to Natalie, “here.”

                The baby’s mouth fell open in excitement as soon as her chubby fingers touched the slippery piece of rapidly cooling pasta, and Illya wasted no time in slipping the first half spoonful into it. But that wasn’t at all what Natalie wanted in her mouth. Undaunted by his effort or the food already in her mouth, she quickly spit the mess out and shoved the spaghetti noodle she’d gotten from Clara in.

                Napoleon could only laugh and reach for the napkin holder at the other end of the table. When his eyes returned to Illya’s he found the blond staring at him with such a self deprecating look on his face that it took everything the older man had not to laugh even harder. “I really should have seen that coming, shouldn’t I have?”

                “Yes, my friend,” the first napkin was used to lift as much spaghetti off her bib before it got everywhere, the second he used to wipe what he could from her cheek, “you really should have.”

                -

                When Clara spoke for the first time since leaving the restaurant, what ever she said was almost lost over the noise of traffic that surrounded them. It was only because of the slight squeeze of his hand by her much smaller one did he realise that he was being spoken to. “Uncle Napoleon?”

                “Mmhm?” he didn’t look down; the sidewalks were far too busy to take his attention off them for a second.

                “Back there, the girl called you and Uncle E’la Natalie’s dads…”

                He paused for a moment and braced himself for the end of her question. The possibilities at this point, as he’d learned in the year he’d lived with a toddler, were like her energy level – limitless. And if he told the truth, a slight bit terrifying. Especially when she asked them in public. “She did.”

                “But you’re not. You’re her uncles.”

                “I know that, sweetheart,” a quick two step to the immediate right was the only thing that saved them from meeting a rather perturbed looking cyclist, who had jumped the sidewalk to avoid the construction taking over the bike lanes, head on. “But sometimes it’s easier to let people believe what they want to instead of constantly correct them.”

                Silence from the girl for nearly a minute and then, “you’d be good dads.”

                His allergies chose that moment to act up as he fought to exhale on the breath suddenly stuck in his throat. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

                The child, oblivious to her uncle’s troubles, pushed on. “Uncle E’la said the half an hour rule for swimming was fake, can we go as soon as we get to the room? I’ll be ok.”

                Illya, holding tight to Natalie, appeared beside them. “As soon as you and I change into our bathing suits and retrieve a couple of towels from the concierge enough time will have passed anyway.”

                Just as they rounded the corner of the building beside their hotel Clara’s hand dropped from his and the lady behind him literally bounced off his back before she called him a name he hadn’t heard since his days in Korea and stepped between him and Illya.

                “Illya, I-“ he looked to his friend with panicked eyes and then down at the new hanger-on at his side and holding tight to his hand, staring up at him with terrified blue eyes. “Clara,” the relief at seeing the girl would nearly brought him to his knees, and would have, if they hadn’t been outside.

                Parenthood; it wasn’t for the weak hearted.

                “Please, sweetheart, tell me next time you want to switch hands, alright? You scared me. I thought –“ no, he wasn’t going to go any further. 

                The remorse was immediately clear in the little girl’s eyes. But she stayed silent and nodded.

                “Why don’t you take Natalie, Napoleon?” Illya turned just enough to transfer the sleeping baby to the older man’s ready arms then nodded sharply, took hold of Clara's waiting hand and continued walking toward the hotel entrance. Which gave Napoleon a few moments to calm his nerves away from inquisitive eyes.

                Strong arms wrapped around the small body in his arms as Napoleon forced himself to breath again.

                Napoleon knew the only reason Illya had handed Natalie off to him was because he knew he needed it. He needed to feel useful. Needed to have one of them close to him. Needed to know he hadn’t lost them too.

                He pressed his cheek against the side of Natalie’s head for a second and closed his eyes tight against the sudden and violent rising tide of absolute self loathing and doubt doing its best to take his breath away. “I’m trying, Lana.  I am.”

                -

                Napoleon looked down as he turned the page of the well-loved board book to make sure Natalie still had juice in her bottle and wasn’t just sucking on air, then looked back to the book and continued, “… _on Saturday he ate through one piece of chocolate cake_ ,”

                “Mm!”

                The unexpected response from the baby drew a startled chuckle from his throat and a shake of his head. He laid the book on his stomach for a moment, rolled his neck to the side and kissed the top of her head. “Never let anyone ever tell you, you didn’t get your appetite from Illya, my love.”

                Natalie tilted her head just enough to see him and grinned, completely oblivious to the bottle hanging precariously from one side of her mouth, the stream of apple juice flowing freely down her chin and soaking into the bib collar of her pyjama top and the sleeve of the shirt he wore. The same one with which he was supporting her. He grinned back at her and gently reached around to take the bottle away, “looks like you’re cut off for the night.”

                The baby didn’t even put up a fight, her large blue eyes followed the bottle in almost rapt fascination as the bottle move to the nightstand beside the bed. She looked back to Napoleon once he moved his hand away and promptly shoved every finger of her left hand in her mouth.

                Napoleon stared back, momentarily transfixed by the mischievous gleam in her eyes, and knowing smirk on her face, and then carefully grasped her wrist and pulled her fingers from her mouth. He made sure to kiss her tiny fist before he folded her arm across her chest again. The man then gently rubbed the pad of his thumb across her cheek and poked her nose with his fingernail. The resulting giggle from the girl drew another chuckle from him.

                He held his thumb against her chin for a second and then startled slightly at the feel of the cold, wet fingers that suddenly held it.

                “Nah uh, no you don’t,” even as he spoke, Natalie still worked, rather valiantly too, at getting his thumb to her mouth. “Napoleon doesn’t feel like being a teething toy tonight, sweetheart.”

                A gentle shake of his hand to loosen her hold followed and then a quick yank before he finally managed to work it free.  

                Her tiny mouth snapped shut in,something that Napoleon could only believe to be, shock when he finally took his hand back. Her owlish gaze settled on him for a split second before it morphed into a look that brokered no arguments on how she felt about not getting her way this time.

                Much to the amusement of her uncle.

                His thumb brushed her cheek again as he shifted more on to his side to cuddle her closer to him. “You’ve got your aunt’s cheeks, you know? And the same emotive eyes.” With practised ease, Napoleon quickly moved back on to his back, shifted the girl to his chest and then turned her onto her stomach. Because of the dry heat of the hotel room the baby's hair immediately reacted to the static charge. He laughed, even as he flattened the thin mess of hair on her head, and kissed her cheek. “Napoleon is in trouble, isn’t he?”

                As if answering his question, Natalie’s face immediately brightened, “yup!”

                Another chuckle and then, “ah, see, I knew it.” With one hand on her back to make sure she didn’t roll; Napoleon took up the book at his side and continued. “ _One ice cream cone, one pickle, one slice of swiss cheese…”_

-

                Napoleon barely looked up from his paper when, from his peripheral vision, he noticed Illya taking off his suit jacket. He did, however, look up and watch when the man threw it across the sleeping redhead in the seat beside him and cast a full blown grin in the direction of the Russian when he started tucking it around her. “It is far too cold on these trains for this time of year,” Illya spoke without moving his attention from Natalie, “and certainly far too cold for a baby to have to deal with.”

                “I’m sure your efforts are greatly appreciated, my friend. She should sleep till Buffalo now.” He picked the paper up again and dropped away.

                Only to come back again a few minutes later when Illya spoke. “Lana would be proud of you, you know?”

                Brown eyes met blue over the paper, “oh?” he quirked an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react.

                Illya nodded, “why wouldn’t she be? You’ve given her daughters a home and made sure a part of her saw the Tower.” The blond gestured across to the little girl in the seat beside Napoleon, long since fallen asleep, and then to Natalie and back to Napoleon.

                “How’d you know she wanted-“

                The blond’s smile answered for him. “She worked for NASA, born and raised in Toronto…there was no way she wouldn’t have wanted to see such a marvel of engineering.”

                “Living in North America for so long, my friend, has done things to your mind.”

                The Russian’s shoulder drew back in confusion. “How?”

                “You just complimented Western engineering feats.”

                The coy smile reply was instantaneous. “Can I blame it on an abnormal state exhaustion brought on by two children under five?”

                "That's another thing," Napoleon stuffed the paper down the side of the chair, leaned forward in his chair and put a gentle hand to Illya’s knee, “what about you?”

                Illya looked to the hand on his knee and then Napoleon, “what do you mean?”

                “The girls were my responsibility yet you jumped in head first without a moments hesitation.”

                “I do believe the child’s name is Natalya Iliana, is it not?” his friend’s eyes held an edge Napoleon hadn’t seen in a long time. It only made him smile.

                “You know it is, Tovarishch.”

                “That automatically makes the child and any family members she may have mine to watch over.”

                Another squeeze of Illya’s knee before he sat back against the seat again with a contented smile and nodded, “thank you, Illya.”

                “Oh,” the blonde’s eyes rolled skyward in feigned disgusted, crossing his legs and then his arms over his chest, “do stop thanking me, after all these years it does become so boring.”

                 And then, in an unusual show of his usual playfulness, Illya winked at him.

                “Sem’ya,”

                Illya nodded then in apt agreement, “sem’ya.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> Sem'ya = Family


End file.
